Welcome to the actual weekend, chicks.
It’s a beautiful thing.
Yesterday, during my excellent day off, I decided to hit the concrete for my longest post-RA run yet, 20 straight minutes.
Again, pause to acknowledge that this a long road back to where I came from.
Okay, moving on.
Right before I left for the run, I snagged a couple of gross, half-filled beer bottles that had been hanging out on my deck, and immediately spilled them on myself.
Which meant that I headed out on a run smelling like a bar.
No sweat though.
Next, I panicked when I couldn’t find my keys.
I imagined I’d be stuck inside all day, as I rifled through a bunch of bags and coats with no luck, muttering to myself that really, you need to be more responsible with your things.
The keys were in my pocket.
I took off on a sunny, chilly run, taking turns wherever I felt like it along the route. Eventually, I found myself on Clark, headed toward Wrigley Field.
I was feeling strong, when all of a sudden, I tripped over myself and the contents of my coat, including my phone, went flying right in front of the marquee.
Five minutes later, post collecting all the pieces of my phone off the ground and dusting myself off, the phone miraculously turned back on and I hit the streets again.
I was feeling a little deflated. I think because of my slightly slower pace recently, I haven’t figured out how to pick my feet up all the way in my stride, which keeps leading to me wiping out at inopportune times.
Not that there’s a particularly opportune time to bite it during a run.
In any case, Andy Grammer came on my Pandora, coming to the rescue with a little “Keep Your Head Up.” It got me back in gear, and I finished my run without incident.
And so, on this chilly Saturday, I share with you my new, possibly teeny bopper tune.
I take what I can get chickadees.
Enjoy the sunshine if you’ve got it.